by Band Back Together | Feb 4, 2015 | Breakups, Depression, Fear, Guilt, Love, Self Loathing, Teen Self-Loathing |
I’m having trouble getting over my ex-boyfriend, and to be honest, I don’t know how normal it is. I don’t know if something is wrong with me – because it seems eerily like there is – or if this is something most people go through. As this was my first relationship, so I don’t have a basis of comparison.
I met him online, through a mutual friend of ours. When I realized he was dealing with depression, I wanted to help him. I spoke with him almost every day for a couple of months. At some point, he told me he loved me. I stuttered in awkwardness, for a minute, before he explained he meant it as a friend. I instantly relaxed and responded to the affirmative.
The second time he told me he loved me, I took it as the same meaning from before, but it wasn’t. He’d fallen for me, in spite of having a boyfriend of his own. Two days later, he told me he intended to kill himself that night. I kept talking to him until he decided not to go through with it.
The following weekend, I realized I loved him too. The next few days were filled with the duality of trying to keep him alive, and being hit hard whenever I feared for his life. That Friday, I was due to go camping. I told him how I felt about him before leaving for the long trip. My phone died before I could say much, and to my despair, there was no signal at the campground.
In full honesty, that was my worst camping trip ever. I had very few idle moments that I wasn’t repeating song lyrics in my head, with either a headache or stomachache. When I got back that Monday, things were so much better. We talked, and our relationship blossomed.
For the next five and a half months, I thought everything was good between us.
I don’t know when he stopped loving me. I had no idea until he snapped. Everything seemed normal, great even. He had launched into a fit of self-hatred and depression, and I was trying to comfort him. He turned on me in a heartbeat. He started yelling at me, and within minutes, I was in shambles. He wouldn’t talk to me after that.
Despite what had happened I still got him a present for his birthday a few weeks later. I asked him to come back to me, but he wouldn’t. When he found out I had gotten him a birthday present, he seemed angry about it. He had repeatedly told me since the split to leave him alone. I told him I would kill myself.
I picked a day to kill myself. Six days before my chosen suicide date, a friend who had just been released from a mental hospital turned up online. I started to have second thoughts about killing myself. Later that day, I spoke to another friend, and I asked him to stay with me. He surprised me with a show of compassion I didn’t expect from him, and I called off the date.
During my bad moments, I wonder if I should have gone through with it. The first week after being talked out of my original decision, I was mostly fine. I had a surgery that Friday, to get my wisdom teeth out, and that kept me mostly occupied. I didn’t really have bad moments that weekend, nor the following few days.
But over time, things seeped in. I gradually started having bouts of depression, mostly at night. Sometimes I would wish to die, but I never carried through. My friends were always there to support me. I fell back on them many a time, despite feeling like I was dragging them down. Things kept on the bad track for a while. I never physically hurt myself – though I considered it. Even in my happy moments, some aspect of the past would rear its head, and I’d drop again.
I’ve spoken to my ex plenty since. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes, not often, it doesn’t. Many of my particularly bad downward spirals were triggered by those conversations.
It’s been a month and a half since the breakup, and I’m still fluctuating emotionally. I still love him, I still want him back. He has told me many times that it wasn’t my fault. He has even openly admitted that he used me, but I still feel like it was my fault. I feel like I failed for not being a complicated person like he wants, like I failed by being too clingy and not caring enough. I feel like I was too open, when he wanted me to be a puzzle he could open for himself.
I continue to drop like a rock, despite all reasons to be happy and efforts made to make me happy. The day after Christmas I went to an amusement park. I spent a good deal of my time trying to figure out how to fall to my death from the rollercoasters. I’m ashamed to be spiraling down like this, without a way to stop. I’m even more ashamed to want my ex back even though he doesn’t love me.
Thanks in advance for any advice you could give me, and thanks for taking the time to read my story.
by Band Back Together | Dec 3, 2013 | Breakups, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Guilt, Psychological Manipulation, Psychological Manipulation, Romantic Relationships, Suicide, Teen Heartbreak, Teen Sexuality |
I was fifteen, and I thought I had met the love of my life.
Of course, when you’re fifteen, everything is the end-all, be-all of your life. You think that the day you fail your history exam is the worst day of your life; that your first job will kick-start your career as a successful businessperson; and the boy sitting at the outdoor table by the bus ramp with a cute smile and big arms is your future husband. At fifteen years old, I was sure I would love no one else but him for as long as I lived.
Because I was not raised a Christian, abstinence to me was always more of a personal preference than a spiritual promise. At fifteen I was not ready to have sex. I’d had only two boyfriends before, and only one of them ever got close enough to kiss me.
And then it all changed.
He was 6’3″, Hispanic, and had no plans for the rest of his life. He had a beautiful smile, was the ultimate smooth talker, and he loved to hold my hand. In short, I was doomed to fall for this guy. I met him at lunch one day; he offered me his seat. I guess that was the first time I ever liked a guy at first sight. Four days later he asked me out. Within two months of dating, I knew I loved him.
He was not a virgin, while I was as virgin as it got. I told myself I was okay with that, but honestly, it kind of bothered me. It made me feel like I had some sort of unknown standard to live up to. Within three months of dating, sex naturally came up as a topic of discussion. It made sense, of course; I was a girl, he was a boy, and we were in high school.
Still, I was really not ready to have sex.
We had been dating about six months when he started to complain about not having sex. I made it very clear to him I wasn’t ready. He’d tell me he understood, and that would end the conversation for the day. By the second or third time we’d argued about it, he told me he was tired of doing it for himself. He wanted his girlfriend, the woman he loved to make love to him.
It made me feel guilty.
When we had been dating about seven months, he sent me a text message saying that I was the best thing in his life and if I left him, he’d probably kill himself. I was in class when I got the text and had to ask to be excused so I could figure out what was going on.
That was the last time he mentioned it, but it stayed on my mind always.
By nine months, I would catch his hand traveling a little too far for my comfort and I’d stop him. One night, after the homecoming dance, he asked me to take off my dress, but swore he wasn’t trying to sleep with me.
Later, his family moved and he had to change schools. I promised him we’d find a way to see each other. I’d visit him at his new home every weekend. We would lay on the couch and he would hold me all day. Our relationship was more innocent than it had ever been.
For a while, we were just content to spend time together. For our first anniversary, he took me to a nice dinner and asked me to prom. We had a relationship based on honesty, and I told him he was the one I wanted to marry.
After that, he began to bring up sex in conversation again.
We would argue about it, and then not talk for days. But no matter how I fought or said no, I could feel my defenses slipping. He knew what to say to make me feel like maybe I was wrong:
“But you love me, and I love you, and I want to show you that.”
“It wouldn’t be a terrible thing, it would be you and me becoming one.”
“It’s meant for two people who love each other. You do love me right?”
We would argue and then he would stop speaking to me. He would start to say something about sex and then stop, making me feel like he felt he couldn’t talk to me about it. I thought I was losing him.
Finally, I compromised: we would do it on prom night. Not long after saying that, his hands began to wander again. When I’d stop him, we’d fight and he’d pull away from me.
I fought with myself on a daily basis, telling myself that if I didn’t do it, he’d leave me. I thought I couldn’t live without him. And so one day, I didn’t say no. He convinced me that I’d enjoy it, so I gave him my virginity.
That night, I cried myself to sleep. I wasn’t ready, and it sucked. He said he felt closer to me, and I said the same. But I never told him how I really felt. He started to ask more often, even demanding it once. I’d give some lame excuse, he’d see right through it, and I’d sleep with him. This happened for another six months.
Just before our second anniversary, he had gone a short while without asking for sex. I found out he had been sleeping with his ex-girlfriend. She confronted me at school one day, revealing it to me publicly.
I was mortified.
I left him eight months ago. I recognize that even though I loved him, I was not ready to lose my virginity at such a young age. For a long time, I blamed myself for it, saying I’m the one who should have said no, I should have stayed strong. But then again, I was afraid he would leave me.
Now I know I am not at fault. I learned that what he did is called sexual coercion. I was nothing more than another conquest. I have trouble getting close to men, and not trusting many people. I am clinically depressed and in college, still in love with a guy I wrongfully had sex with. I am seeking help. In sharing my story, I have found myself again.
by Band Back Together | Dec 3, 2010 | Anger, Anniversary Reactions, Breakups, Coping With Losing A Child, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Livng Through A Miscarriage, Miscarriage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sadness, Spotlight On Baby Loss |
Today is when our baby was due.
Today is when we would’ve met our child and become parents.
It’s hard writing those words, but even harder thinking about what they actually mean. We never knew if our baby was a boy or a girl, though we’re convinced our little one was a tiny princess. We named her, though only we know her name. I try to look at our faces all the time and imagine what she would’ve looked like. There is an emptiness in my heart knowing our family isn’t complete, that there’s someone missing.
I posed a question to people a while ago. I asked if they would consider someone a mother if their child never made it into their arms, and as would you expect, the answers were divided. I’m half in the park that “I am a mother,” and half in the “I’m not” as well. Without having her here in my arms, I feel like I don’t deserve the title of ‘mother,’ but I can’t deny she was here, even if only for a short time.
Her initials are CG, and I wish I could tell you her name, but somehow it doesn’t feel right. I’m tired of her being our secret though, and I want the world to know I should have a daughter here. I’m angry, frustrated, and hurt. I want people to know about her, I want others to miss her, I want others to care.
Today, I should be a mother, holding our little angel, breathing her in and going over all of her little features with the awe only a new mother can have.
Today is a lot harder than I thought it would be.
by Band Back Together | Nov 9, 2010 | Anger, Blended Families, Breakups, Coping With Divorce, Divorce, Emotional Abuse, Infidelity, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Psychological Manipulation, Suicide |
Fourteen years ago, I was a carefree college student. I was content with life, was climbing the proverbial ladder as if there were no obstacles in my way, but I longed to be in a relationship. I spent much of my time kissing frogs and drinking far more than my share of tequila. Six months later, I found you.
I should have seen the warning signs early on in the relationship, but I forged ahead. Six months turned into a year. One year turned into five. And by our seventh year together, we had a child, a mortgage and a blended family of sorts. A yours & ours. I was happy, the kids were happy. You were not, and you had an affair.
Again, I should have seen the signs. We argued, I fought for the relationship, you blamed me for the affair. We worked through “our” issues, I thought.
We added a child, lost family members, added a house and then the ugly monster reared it’s head. You were not happy again. And again it was my fault. There was no affair – just a threat of suicide. I talked you out of it. I thought we worked through “our” issues and we forged ahead.
Eight months later, you were unhappy again, you were suicidal again.
And again you felt it was my fault.
You came home because you had no where else to go, but you tricked me into thinking that you wanted to be here. You insisted you wanted a “normal family”. But when push came to shove, you finally admitted that you really never wanted to come home, never wanted to be with me, you just had no where else to go, no job, and no family.
So you have decided that you are done with me, you don’t want to have the “stress” of owning a house (or two). You say you want nothing, but refuse to leave until your “name is off the house”. You say you need no one, and that you can do it all on your own. Yet we all know you are wrong. You know you are wrong.
Your anger and your blame has nothing to do with me. It has to do with whatever it is that you are hiding from. You need to find help, we need you to find help.
Help doesn’t mean you have to stay with me and your family. Help means fixing you, and whatever it is that is making you unhappy. Because fixing you is fixing our children. Because when you are broken, it breaks them.
You deciding that we are not going to be “us” anymore is probably the best decision you have made for all of us. Because I can no longer take the blame for your shortcomings and insecurities. I have my own, and I need to be the best example I can be for our children. I know I am not strong enough to leave you on my own and I still want to “fix” you/us.
So while you waver in the wind and deny you need help, I’m going to get help for myself, my children and my own well being. I will seek out legal advise and I will seek out counseling for me and for our children. I will find my way from here.
But, I hope someday you will realize how much you are loved, how much you have hurt us and how badly you need to be fixed. I hope that you make the choice of life and that you realize your kids need you, not a “replacement daddy”, as you like to say. I hope you that you make the choice to fix you, so that they too can be fixed.
by Band Back Together | Nov 9, 2010 | Anger, Blended Families, Breakups, Coping With Divorce, Divorce, Emotional Abuse, Infidelity, Psychological Manipulation, Suicide |
Fourteen years ago, I was a carefree college student. I was content with life, was climbing the proverbial ladder as if there were no obstacles in my way, but I longed to be in a relationship. I spent much of my time kissing frogs and drinking far more than my share of tequila. Six months later, I found you.
I should have seen the warning signs early on in the relationship, but I forged ahead. Six months turned into a year. One year turned into five. And by our seventh year together, we had a child, a mortgage and a blended family of sorts. A yours & ours. I was happy, the kids were happy. You were not, and you had an affair.
Again, I should have seen the signs. We argued, I fought for the relationship, you blamed me for the affair. We worked through “our” issues, I thought.
We added a child, lost family members, added a house and then the ugly monster reared it’s head. You were not happy again. And again it was my fault. There was no affair – just a threat of suicide. I talked you out of it. I thought we worked through “our” issues and we forged ahead.
Eight months later, you were unhappy again, you were suicidal again. And again you felt it was my fault.
You came home because you had no where else to go, but you tricked me into thinking that you wanted to be here. You insisted you wanted a “normal family”. But when push came to shove, you finally admitted that you really never wanted to come home, never wanted to be with me, you just had no where else to go, no job and no family.
So you have decided that you are done with me, you don’t want to have the “stress” of owning a house (or two). You say you want nothing, but refuse to leave until your “name is off the house”. You say you need no one, and that you can do it all on your own. Yet we all know you are wrong. You know you are wrong.
Your anger and your blame has nothing to do with me. It has to do with whatever it is that you are hiding from. You need to find help, we need you to find help.
Help doesn’t mean you have to stay with me and your family. Help means fixing you, and whatever it is that is making you unhappy. Because fixing you is fixing our children. Because when you are broken, it breaks them.
You deciding that we are not going to be “us” anymore is probably the best decision you have made for all of us. Because I can no longer take the blame for your shortcomings and insecurities. I have my own, and I need to be the best example I can be for our children. I know I am not strong enough to leave you on my own and I still want to “fix” you/us.
So while you waver in the wind and deny you need help, I’m going to get help for myself, my children and my own well being. I will seek out legal advise and I will seek out counseling for me and for our children. I will find my way from here.
But, I hope someday you will realize how much you are loved, how much you have hurt us and how badly you need to be fixed. I hope that you make the choice of life and that you realize your kids need you, not a “replacement daddy”, as you like to say. I hope you that you make the choice to fix you, so that they too can be fixed.
